


Buying Time

by Suzie_Shooter



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, Multiple Partners, Prostitute Harry, Rentboys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 16:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzie_Shooter/pseuds/Suzie_Shooter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is a rentboy. Amongst his clients, Liam is a repressed businessman who can't admit what he wants to his wife, Zayn is a famous DJ who doesn't want his fans to know he's gay, Niall is rich but awkward and lonely, and Louis - well, Louis' just in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buying Time

The unaccustomed suit and tie was making his throat itch, and Harry fidgeted with his collar in the lift up to the third floor. He wondered idly how people put up with wearing this sort of thing all day every day, and decided it was probably the restrictive clothing that made them all so repressed.

Still, he was entirely capable of being discreet when he needed to be - it was fairly vital in his line of work after all, and he smiled politely as the secretary showed him into the end office with neat brass sign on the door - _Liam Payne, Properties._

As the door closed with a click, the man behind the desk looked up as if noticing him for the first time. Harry wasn't fooled. He knew he was expected, knew that the man had probably been able to think of little else all morning. 

"Hello Mr. Payne." He smiled demurely, leaning back against the door and locking it carefully.

"Go-good morning." The young man got up, flushing already, and Harry noticed with an inward smirk the crease in his immaculately tailored trousers that gave him away.

They came together at the front of the desk, and glancing down Harry noticed a photograph frame that had been carefully placed face-down on the surface. Liam's wife, he supposed. He'd caught a glimpse of the picture once, the first time he'd been here, a pretty and vivacious young woman. Still, Harry supposed she wasn't exactly able to offer what he could.

"The usual?" he smiled instead, giving off a soothing sense of professionalism that seemed to calm Liam's obvious nerves. 

"Yes. Yes, I - oh God, I shouldn't be - I'm so sorry." Liam's words tripped over themselves and Harry shook his head reassuringly. 

"It's what I'm here for," he murmured. "Although there is the small question of, um..."

"Oh! Yes. Sorry. Remiss of me." Liam handed him an envelope that Harry pocketed without opening and instead unzipped his trousers, letting them pool around his ankles. He wasn't wearing any underwear.

Without being asked, he leaned forward across the desk and waited patiently, listening for the quiet sound of Liam's zip being drawn down, and for him to put on a condom. He knew from experience that Liam didn't want any help with this part, didn't want to be watched, even. Harry was entirely there to be used, not to participate. 

It didn't bother him. It was rather relaxing in a way, not to have to worry about pleasing a client for once, or come up with ridiculous flattery like with some of them. He ran through his schedule for the rest of the day in his mind, planning outfits and a shopping list. When he felt hands come to rest tentatively on his hips though, he pushed it all out of his head, giving Liam his full attention, albeit from a position a few centimetres above the desktop.

However hesitant and apologetic Liam might be about what he wanted, there was never anything tentative about the way he took it. Harry had to hang on to the edge of the desk as he was pounded into, Liam apparently taking out a month's worth of stored up frustrations and repression in one go.

Conscious of the secretary on the other side of the door, they remained almost silent but for heavy breathing and the occasional involuntary grunt from Liam as he took Harry vigorously from behind. Even when he came, the only sound he let out was a stifled noise through what sounded like clenched teeth, and Harry found himself wondering if the man ever really let himself go at all. 

Still, that was none of his business, and afterwards he merely pulled his trousers up demurely, straightening his shirt and jacket. 

Liam was already looking guilty. "Look, I, ah, I don't think we should - that is, I won't be - I don't mean this as any reflection on you, but I won't be needing your services again. I have to stop doing this."

"Whatever you think best." Harry nodded to him gravely, and unlocked the door. He wasn't unduly concerned, Liam had given him that speech the last two times he'd been here. He never seemed to last more than a month before he cracked and needed some more quality time with Harry's arse.

As he went down in the lift again, Harry checked the money in his pocket, pulled the tie loose from his collar and ruffled his hair back into messy curls. When he walked out through reception, he was whistling.

\--

After going home to shower and change, the next stop on Harry's itinerary was a concert venue. He made his way in past teams of men struggling with banks of lights, women in headsets running purposefully back and forth, and groups of teenage girls being herded out by flustered looking security guards. He flashed the pass that his client had sent him and it was enough to get him waved through with directions to the parking lot at the back, being told he'd know it when he saw it.

They were right, Harry thought a moment later, when he saw the huge trailer with _DJ Malik_ painted on the outside amidst lots of neon squiggles. Harry winced and knocked on the door. He had to duck back as it promptly flew open and nearly hit him in the face.

"I told you I didn't want to be - oh, hey man, it's you, sorry." The lanky boy hanging out of the doorway grinned at him. "Thought you were my manager again. Come in."

"Hey Zayn." Harry mounted the steps and slipped in past him, smiling. Of all his clients. Zayn was one of the longest standing, and they'd developed an easy rapport. "How's it going?"

"Oh, you know. Nightly shows. Screaming girls. Free wardrobe allowance. It's hell," he grinned, throwing himself onto the bed. "Hey, you hungry? They've sent me enough lunch for about six people here. And frankly there's an entire plate of sausage rolls you can take with you, cos it's not like I can eat them."

Harry sat down next to him, laughing. "Maybe afterwards, yeah? Or are you trying to give me indigestion?"

"Thought you might need to keep your strength up," Zayn grinned mischievously, and squeezed Harry's leg.

"Are you dissing my stamina?" Harry asked with mock indignance and Zayn giggled.

"Your reputation's safe with me babes." 

"As is yours with me," Harry murmured and laughed at Zayn's blush. 

"Yeah, well. Wouldn't want to disappoint the legions, would I?" 

Zayn made himself comfortable against the cushions and watched, stroking himself slowly through his jeans as Harry peeled off his top and trousers. By the time Harry had got as far as preparing himself with lube-covered fingers, Zayn's trousers were round his knees and his cock was in his hand, stiff and eager.

"Do that thing," Zayn urged, when Harry looked up at him, ready and waiting. 

Harry laughed, shaking his head. "You are so fucking easily amused."

"Just as well ain't it?" Zayn jibed, working himself with firm fingers. "Go on."

Harry grinned and tore open a condom, leaning forward and slipping it into his mouth. Zayn watched with the delight of a kid watching a party trick as Harry rolled it over his cock using only his lips and tongue. When it was fully on and his shaft was buried in Harry's hot mouth, he threw his head back and groaned in pleasure. "Fuck, you're good."

Harry lay back and smirked. "I aim to please." He let his legs fall open as Zayn crawled over him, hard and ready, eyes gleaming. 

"Brace yourself sweetheart, because DJ Malik is about to be In. The. House."

\--

Afterwards, Harry helped him demolish a good percentage of the sandwiches, sprawled against each other on the bed. Eventually Harry's phone beeped to remind him of his next appointment and he yawned.

"Gotta go." 

Zayn stretched contentedly. "Money's on the side there. Do I owe you more, you've been here ages."

"Nah, don't be daft, you fed me." Harry slipped into his jacket and jingled his keys. "Let me know when you want a repeat performance, yeah?"

\--

Running against the clock, Harry made it back to his flat in record time, strewing clothes in a trail to the shower and hopping in and out of the spray until it settled down into a temperature that was neither searing not freezing. As he soaped himself quickly, eyes closed against the water, he wondered distantly if in a job like this shower gel should be tax-deductible. And that was before you added in the cost of the condoms and lube. 

He rinsed off, grinning. If he'd paid tax in the first place, it might have been a worry.

\--

Dead on time, he rang the doorbell of his next client. It was a huge house, and he'd dressed rather more smartly for the occasion, although the boy that opened the door was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. Harry figured when you had the amount of money Niall Horan did, you didn't have to worry about things like presentation, although a treacherous voice at the back of his brain suggested that a bit more effort in that department and Niall might have more luck finding an actual boyfriend.

"Hi Harry." Niall smiled hopefully at him, and Harry smiled back. There was something puppy-like about Niall that made him want to please him. He followed Niall into the house, looking around. The place gave him the creeps and he wouldn't have spent a night alone here if you'd paid him double. He tried to imagine Niall rattling around in it on his own all week, and shuddered. Still, he'd inherited it along with a shit-load of cash, so who was Harry to judge?

Niall looked round shyly, to make sure Harry was following, and lead him upstairs to the bedroom. This room at least, was cosy, and the bed was soft and huge. Harry pulled off his shoes, then let Niall undress him the rest of the way, the blond boy taking a simple pleasure in slowly exposing his body like an exotic present.

He was one of Harry's few male clients who wanted Harry to fuck _him_ , and by the time Niall was on his knees drawing down Harry's silk boxers he'd made sure he was already hard. Guiding Niall back onto the bed, he straddled him carefully, stroking Niall's own erection to a state of throbbing arousal.

Niall moaned loudly as Harry entered him, his fingers entwined with Harry's above his head. He was always noisily appreciative and ridiculously grateful. Harry rather suspected on the occasion of his first visit here Niall had been a virgin, and always took extra care to be gentle with him.

When it was over, Niall blinked up at him sweetly, pale skin flushed pink and looking happier than Harry'd ever seen him. "Thank you," he said sincerely, and Harry smiled down at him as he dressed.

"Thank _you_ ," he replied, making Niall laugh. He sat up in the bed, pulling the covers around him, self-conscious again.

"Um, Harry? It's my birthday next week, and I wondered - well, I wondered if you'd come to my party? As - as my - " he hesitated, blushing, and Harry swore inwardly.

"Sure," he said, cheerfully brisk. "Book me in, yeah?"

Niall's face fell a little, but he covered it quickly. "Oh. Yes. Yes, of course. It's the 13th, is that okay?"

Harry checked his phone and punched it in. "Seven okay? Cool. See you then." Niall was looking faintly miserable, and Harry sat back down on the side of the bed, throwing professional distance to the wind to give him a hug. "You alright chickie?"

"Yeah." Niall sighed. "It's just - I want it to be a success, you know? I - want people to come." He picked at the covers, fretfully. "Do you know anyone who might, like, perform or something for it? I mean, I can pay, that's not a problem." He looked at Harry with hopeful eyes. "I thought - you might know someone. You have such a glamorous career."

Harry bit back a laugh. The last thing Niall wanted to hear about was the largely undignified and frequently messy sequence of events that seemed to be his life. But he did have an idea.

"I might know someone. He doesn't normally do private functions, but - he might make an exception, yeah? Let me find out." 

\--

Later on, making his way through the darkening streets to his last assignation of the day, Harry pulled up the collar of his jacket against the freshening breeze and rolled his shoulders tiredly. He wouldn't normally book in four clients in one day, but the last had been a late request, and he'd accepted somewhat against his better judgement. 

Buzzed in through the door, he took the stairs rather than the lift, to give himself an extra couple of minutes to prepare himself. Of all his clients, Louis was the one he found it hardest to keep a safe mental distance from, not least because Louis intentionally or not persisted in blurring the lines of what was a strictly professional transaction.

The door to the flat flew open with such speed after Harry's knock that he knew Louis must have been pacing on the other side of it. The other boy always seemed to have worked himself up into a state of nerves by the time Harry arrived, and he wasn't sure why. He wasn't that scary, surely?

"Hey Harry." Louis swung the door closed and shifted restlessly from foot to foot. "Would you like a drink?" 

"No, thanks," Harry shook his head, smiling, and let his coat slide from his back, hanging it on the hooks behind the door, and giving Louis a chance to take in his outfit. Shimmery black top with cut-off sleeves, black leather bangles around his wrist, black jeans that showed off his arse. When he turned back, Louis was looking faintly stunned.

"Do you mind if I have one?" Louis asked hoarsely and Harry shrugged, not unkindly. 

"It's your money."

Louis flinched, then looked embarrassed. "Oh, here." He geld out a roll of notes that Harry slid into the pocket of his coat. 

"I wasn’t hinting," Harry smiled and Louis laughed awkwardly. 

"Wouldn’t want to forget." He poured himself a drink and threw it back in one. "Sure you won’t have one?"

"Oh, go on then." Harry relented. It had been a long day, and truth be told he could use one. 

They carried their glasses into the bedroom, and sat on the end of the bed, side by side.

"So. Here we are again." Louis said brightly, and Harry looked sideways at him through his hair. "Good day?" Louis added, when he didn’t reply.

"Oh, you know. Same old same old," Harry murmured non-committally. If there was one unwritten rule of conduct, it was that you made your clients feel like they were the only one, they hardly wanted to think about how many other people might have had you today. But in Louis' case, he couldn't help feeling that it might be more than a little dangerous to give him the wrong idea. 

On the other hand, he was being paid to do the best job he could. Harry set down his glass and took Louis' away as well. He put his hands on Louis' shoulders and straddled his lap, feeling the press of his erection immediately against his own. "Ready?" he smiled softly, and Louis nodded, lost in his eyes.

\--

Harry remembered the first time he'd been here. He'd arrived, somewhat to his surprise, in the middle of a party, and hesitated warily in the doorway as his appearance was greeted with cat-calls and laughter. 

"I don't do gangbangs," he'd warned, instinct being to turn and leave again, until a drunk, red-faced boy in fits of laughter had pushed forward his friend. 

"No, it's okay," he'd sniggered. "You're here for Louis. It's his birthday."

Harry had taken in the furiously blushing Louis, and changed his mind about leaving.

Ushered into Louis' bedroom by the baying crowd, Louis had immediately turned and jammed a chair under the doorhandle, thereby establishing him in Harry's mind as someone with a lot more sense than at first appeared.

Louis had had trouble meeting his eyes, blushing so hard Harry wondered seriously if he was going to pass out. 

"Um. Sorry about this. It was a dare, you see. And, well, you can't really back down, can you?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "We could just bounce on the bed and make convincing noises if you want? It's your money, it's all the same to me."

"No, I, er. I'd like - I mean, if it's okay, I'd like - " he'd tailed off and Harry had taken hold of his hands, smiling.

"Of course it's okay. It's why I'm here, right?"

"Right," Louis breathed, and after a second leaned towards his mouth, only to be brought up with a start as Harry's fingers hastily came to rest on his lips.

"No kissing. Sorry, I don't do that."

Louis looked embarrassed. "Right. Right, sorry, of course."

Harry let his fingers trail down Louis' throat. "It's the only rule though. Oh, and we have to use a condom. But otherwise - we can do whatever you like." He drew Louis down to the bed, stroking his arm. "What would you like, Louis?"

"I'd like - to - can I - "

"You want to fuck me Louis?" Harry had asked softly, and Louis had nodded in relief that he didn't have to say it.

\--

Now, naked but for his bracelets, Harry lowered himself slowly down onto Louis' cock with a sigh of pleasure he didn't have to fake. Louis was lying back on the bed, one hand on Harry's hips, steadying him as he moved, the other stroking his cock as it strained up against his stomach.

\--

That initial visit, Harry had imagined that it was maybe Louis' first time, with a man at least, but he'd been pleasantly surprised with the confidence in Louis' touch once he'd got over his nerves. He'd taken Harry with a gentle passion that had moved him, and Harry's own orgasm had come naturally and easily. 

Some clients wanted him to be completely passive, others wanted him in dominant charge. Louis though, was one of those that wanted him to be an equal participant, to seem to be enjoying it as much as he was. Harry hadn't needed to fake it that night, Louis' body against his had felt immediately right and they slipped into a mutual rhythm that had left them both sated and giggly.

Louis had pressed his lips to Harry's hot skin, and then checked himself, guiltily. "Sorry," he'd mumbled, but Harry's hand had guided him back to the line of his hip.

"It's okay," he'd murmured. "Just not the mouth. You can kiss me anywhere else."

Louis, it turned out, had been _good_ with his mouth.

\--

Slick with sweat now, Harry rose and fell on Louis' rigid cock, thrusting into the other boy's fingers, knowing he couldn't come before Louis did and biting the inside of his mouth to control himself.

"Harry!" Louis cried out his name in what sounded closer to despair than pleasure, and Harry felt his cock pulsing in orgasm, hips jerking underneath Harry's thighs as he buried himself deeper in Harry's arse. The hand on Harry's cock faltered in its rhythm but didn’t stop, and Harry finally let himself come, shooting up against his chest, drips falling onto Louis' stomach.

He drew himself carefully off Louis' softening cock and disposed of the condom for him. Louis smiled up at him sleepily.

"Would you stay with me?" he asked quietly, running a hand down Harry's back.

Harry forced himself to meet his eyes with a neutral expression. "Sure, if you can afford it. Price is the same per hour, whether you want to fuck or sleep." He hated himself for the way Louis' hopeful look closed down, but knew it was for the best.

Louis shook his head reluctantly. "I - can't afford that." He looked embarrassed, and Harry wondered, not for the first time, why a boy this pleasant and attractive was hiring someone like him.

"Maybe next time then, eh?" he suggested kindly, and started pulling on his clothes.

"Yeah," Louis said softly, rolling over to watch him. "Harry. Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure." 

"Why do you do this? This - job, I mean."

Harry gave a short laugh. "I'm good at it?" He sat down to pull his shoes on, and shrugged. "Never really been any good at anything else. But I can do this. And I enjoy it." He gave Louis a crooked smile. "Trying to talk me out of a job?"

"No, I - " Louis flushed. "I worry about you, that's all."

Harry stood up, knowing without question it was time to go. "I don't need saving, Louis," he said quietly, and Louis went an even deeper shade of scarlet.

"No! I didn't mean - shit Harry, I - " he sighed. "I can still see you again, right?"

Harry nodded. "Course. You know my number. Night, Louis." 

"Night Harry."

Louis fell back on the bed and listened to Harry's footsteps receding through the flat, cut off by the bang of the outer door. He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. Why was it, however often he practised stuff in his head, it always sounded so lame when he said it out loud? Harry probably thought he was a moron, and he didn’t blame him.

It was just - he couldn't bear the thought of never seeing him again. When his friends had cooked up the idea of the rentboy dare for his twentieth, he'd expected some hard-faced, loose-arsed chancer. Nothing could have prepared him for the open, sweet nature of Harry, and the boy was more heavenly in bed than Louis had ever dreamed of.

He was slowly bankrupting himself paying for sessions with him. He didn’t earn much, waiting on tables, and one day he was going to have to choose between seeing Harry and paying his rent.

It wasn't even the sex, he thought miserably. He just wanted to be with the boy. He was, he knew, hopelessly in love. With emphasis on the hopeless. It wasn’t like Harry was ever going to return his feelings, to him he was just another client. In fact Harry probably despised him, Louis thought, torturing himself further.

He let his fingers find the drops of Harry's come on his skin, and slid the fingers of his other hand into his body, holding the image of Harry in his mind until he came for a second time, panting and shaking.

Had the passing thought that Harry should probably be charging royalties for this sort of thing.

\--

The following morning, pulling up outside the house of his first client, Harry had Louis on his mind. It was a sort of sweet ache that he kept coming back to, like probing a loose tooth. In some other world, he thought, maybe they could have been friends, lovers, even. But not here, not now. The most understanding boyfriend in the world would eventually get jealous of the fact Harry spent all day fucking other people, and he wasn't prepared to give up his job, not yet. Nor did he want to face a lifetime of lying to someone.

He had friends, plenty of them, and he had more sex than his diary could cope with. So something as trivial as love he could surely do without. 

Still, as he let himself into the house, he allowed memories of the way Louis had fucked him last night stiffen his cock in readiness. He knew how demanding his next client could be.

As he walked into the living room, the woman in the window turned with a smile, and let the robe she was wearing fall to the floor. Harry, jacket slung over one shoulder, smiled lazily, taking in the suspenders and lacy underwear with a slow appreciation.

"Hello Caroline."

\--

At work a few days later, sliding between tables with a tray of empties balanced in one hand and a professional eye on the diners in his section, Louis found himself wondering for the hundredth time if he could afford to see Harry again that weekend. 

What he needed, he decided, was a really _big_ tipper, and made sure to be extra attentive and even smile sweetly at the jerks.

When the buzz rippled through the waiting staff that Simon Cowell had arrived in the foyer, Louis laughed. It would be a look-alike, or a wind up. And then even the customers started murmuring and Louis looked up towards the door - and froze.

One of the other waiters nudged him hard in the ribs. "Dude. You're staring. Not cool."

Louis shook his head, distantly. It _was_ Cowell - but that wasn't who he'd been staring at. Standing by his side, dressed in an immaculate tuxedo, was - 

"Harry."

Across the room, as if feeling the weight of his gaze, Harry looked round, right in his direction. His eyes met Louis' and Louis, unfreezing at last, spun away, heading for the kitchens at double time, entirely missing the surprised smile on the boy's lips. 

Safely out of sight, Louis leaned against the wall, heart pounding. Stupid. _Stupid._ The idea of being ashamed of what he did - when Harry, after all, sold his body for a living - felt somehow ridiculous, but he couldn't help it. He'd entertained the vague fantasy of one day earning enough money to whisk Harry away and live happily ever after. And now there Harry was, on the arm of one of the richest, most powerful men in the country - and now he knew Louis was only a waiter. 

Heart full of dread, Louis made himself walk back out front, feeling weak with relief when he saw them being seated on the far side of the room, where he wouldn't be expected to wait on them.

There were several other people in the group, and as their meal progressed, Louis couldn't stop his gaze sliding over to them time after time. Maybe Harry was there for some other reason, he thought vainly, it seemed to be a business meeting more than anything. Harry didn't seem to be participating in the conversation much though, just attentively filling Simon's glass and hanging onto his every word.

Louis kicked the door to the kitchen open savagely. That was it then, wasn't it. He couldn't compete with someone like that. He might as well give up.

When he went back out, they were leaving. Harry didn't so much as glance in his direction, and Louis felt a knot form in his stomach as Simon's hand came to rest in the small of Harry's back, guiding him out of the door. Little question what _they'd_ be doing for the rest of the afternoon. 

Louis felt tears of anger prickling at the back of his eyes, and blinked them back fiercely. Wondered if this was what your dreams shattering felt like.

\--

When he'd looked up and seen Louis in the restaurant, Harry's instinctive reaction had been one of pleasure. But when Louis, clearly having seen him, turned away without so much as a nod, the smile died on his lips, and he flinched, embarrassed. Of course, Louis was hardly going to want the people he worked with to think he associated with rentboys, was he? And to Harry's mind there was little question that that was what he looked like, as he hovered attentively at Simon's elbow, laughing at his jokes and keeping his glass full.

Not that it was exactly a hardship, Harry usually didn't give a fuck what people thought, and Simon in public was courteous and charming; Harry could well see how people fell under his spell so easily. But his mind kept returning to Louis, his back prickling as he imagined the boy moving about the room behind him. He resisted the temptation to seek him out with his eyes, taking the hint that Louis clearly didn't want anyone to think they were acquainted. He couldn't blame him.

As Simon ushered him out of the room afterwards, Harry consoled himself that the fucking he was undoubtedly about to receive in the back of the limousine would at least serve to blot out uncomfortable thoughts of Louis for a while to come.

\--

The morning after, Harry found himself outside the house of a new client, scrubbed and wholesome looking - at least to the casual glance that wouldn't be able to tell he wasn't wearing any pants. 

After his session with Simon the day before, tight cloth against his arse chafed unbearably, and he was faintly thankful that his only appointment today was a woman, who would, presumably at least, take less interest in that particular orifice.

She opened the door with the brittle smile of extreme nerves, and Harry beamed up at her winningly.

"Hello. I'm Harry. It's Danielle, isn't it?" He wondered if it was her real name. People frequently gave him fakes, but this contact had been a recommendation, through Caroline. It amused him no end to think that his services might be discussed at posh ladies' dinner parties.

The young woman let him in, touching her hair self-consciously. "Yes, that's right. Come in, please." She shut the door behind him quickly, obviously scared of nosy neighbours.

There was something familiar about her, and Harry took another look. "I don't know you from somewhere, do I?" he asked, following her into the living room.

Danielle looked at him quizzically. "I don't think we've met? I would have remembered. Maybe Caroline has a picture of me or something? You're, um, friends, right?" 

"Friends, yes." Harry smiled at the easy euphemism. "So - what can I do for you?" 

Danielle was twisting her skirt in her hands. "I don't want you to think badly of me, it's just - well, my husband you see. We've not been married long, but he just - he just doesn't - "

"Understand you?" Harry filled in sympathetically. 

"Seem interested." Danielle concluded with a resigned finality. "At least in anything - adventurous."

"And you'd like to be adventurous would you Danielle?" he asked, moving forward and capturing her hands in his. She met his gaze, shaky but determined. 

"Yes. Fuck, yes. Also - I hope you don't mind, but I - can we do it here? It wouldn't feel right, doing it in our bed."

"We can do it swinging from the light fittings if you like," Harry grinned, and she laughed, relaxing finally. And suddenly, just like that, he knew where he'd seen her picture before.

Not at Caroline's, but in a silver photograph frame on Liam Payne's desk.

\--

An hour and a half later, Harry was watching the incongruous sight of a stark naked woman pouring him a cup of tea in a bone china service. As Danielle turned he caught sight of the red imprint of his hand on her arse, and choked guiltily on the tea.

She looked down, following his gaze, and shrugged dismissively. "Don't worry. It's not like he'll ever notice." She sat in one of the arm chairs, legs curled up under her, apparently sublimely unconcerned that they were both completely naked. 

Harry sipped the tea gratefully and smiled at her over the rim. Since he'd arrived he'd fucked her three times, including once on the dining table and once in the arse. He needed reviving, and she, he thought decisively, needed some advice.

"Have you ever thought of telling him? What you want, I mean," Harry clarified hastily as Danielle looked startled. "I don't mean about me. I _really_ don't think you should do that."

She sighed. "I just sort of assumed it would happen, you know? Once we were married? That - we'd discover each other. But it's always the same, I just lie there, and he - " she waved her hand eloquently - "pumps away for a bit, then falls asleep. It's like - he's not interested."

"He loves you though," Harry said confidently. The way Liam always carefully averted the eyes in her picture told him that much. If he didn't care, he wouldn't bother.

"And I love him, but - " she looked at him appealingly. "What should I do?"

"Well. I'm not trying to do myself out of business here, but - tell him. Or show him. Pounce on him. Don't take no for an answer. Get him to - you know. Like I just did. I reckon he'd be more into it than you reckon. Maybe he's just afraid _you're_ not up for it. That you'd think he was filthy." He drank more of his tea, watching her consider the idea.

"You reckon?" she asked, finally.

"Yeah. And maybe buy some toys," Harry suggested, putting down his cup and reaching for his trousers. 

"Toys?" she looked blank. Harry grinned. 

"You know. Maybe a strap-on."

\--

Harry was in the middle of a well deserved lunch when his phone rang. He squinted down at the number in the sunlight and felt a mixture of emotions. Louis.

He picked up, careful to keep his voice neutral.

"Hey Harry, it's, erm, Louis. Look, I know this is short notice, but - could I see you? Tonight?"

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the beginning of a headache. Made up his mind. "Yeah. Sure Louis. Eight okay for you?"

"Yes, fine." Louis sounded - relieved? "I'll, um. See you then, then."

"Yeah. Bye Louis." Harry hung up and tapped his phone thoughtfully on the edge of the table. He wondered what the evening would bring. There'd been a tension in Louis' voice that had never been there before. He sighed. He had just under six hours before he had to be there, and he planned to spend at least two of them soaking in a hot bath, for the sake of his arse if nothing else.

\--

"Harry mate! Come in. Have a drink." 

Harry stepped into Louis' flat and accepted the glass that was thrust into his hand, although he made no move to drink from it. Louis, he saw, was quite considerably drunk already, and wondered if he'd been drinking since making the call. If he'd had to be drunk _to_ make the call.

Louis lead him to the sofa and they sat next to each other in an awkward silence for a moment. Louis drained his glass and decided to confront the elephant in the room head on.

"So. Simon Cowell eh? Fuck me, you're going up in the world."

Harry put his untouched glass down on the coffee table and shook his head slightly. "Don't, Louis. I can't talk about other clients, you know that."

"Why not?" Louis' voice was derisive. "It's not like you're a lawyer, or a doctor or something, is it?"

Harry just looked at him, calmly. "Would you want me talking about the things _we_ do to someone else?"

Louis fell silent, looking mutinous. Harry slid a hand onto his knee. "Hey, come on. Let's just - have some fun, yeah?"

"Why?"

Harry looked taken aback. "Why what?"

"Why would you want me when you can have someone like him?"

"It's just business, Louis. That's all. Your money's just as good as his."

"Business." Louis' voice was choked. "You know, I thought maybe - I thought you liked me."

"I do like you." Harry tried to sound reasonable. "I like a lot of people. I wouldn't do this if I didn't like it. I'm a prostitute, Louis, this is how it works."

"Don't use that word!" Louis looked up in anguish and Harry gave him a hard smile.

"Would you prefer whore?"

"No! Harry!" Louis was clearly fighting back tears, and Harry got to his feet. 

"I think I should go."

Louis shot up immediately, and grasped his wrist tightly. "No." Harry just looked at him, and he let go, hurriedly. "I mean - please don't. Stay? Now you're here. Look, I can pay?" He fumbled a roll of cash out of his jeans and when Harry didn't move to take it, he set it on the table. "Please?" he asked again, and Harry sighed.

"Alright."

Relieved, Louis took him by the hand and lead him into the bedroom. 

For a while things progressed relatively smoothly, and soon they were both naked in the bed, hard and ready. Then Louis' roaming hands chanced to touch a place that made Harry draw a sharp, unguarded breath and he froze.

"Harry? Did I hurt you?" He looked worried, but also confused, he hadn't been that rough, after all.

Harry shook his head, cursing himself - and then opened his mouth and made things a thousand times worse.

"Just a bit sore that's all. Sorry. It's not your - " he broke off at the expression on Louis' face and thought earnestly, _Fuck._

"Oh. I _see_." Louis looked down at his hands, and Harry knew he'd been right - it really never would have worked out. He sighed. 

"Maybe I should - "

"No." Louis looked up, and his expression was fierce. "I've _paid_ for you now. And I'll take what I've paid for, if it's all the same." He reached out and shoved Harry down into the sheets, climbing on top of him angrily. "It's what you're _for_ , after all, right? You _like_ this, you fucking whore."

Harry closed his eyes. He was stronger than he looked, and had all kinds of tricks for getting out of just this sort of situation - he couldn't have lasted long in his profession without them. But some obstinate part of him wanted to let Louis take his revenge, and so he lay there passively and allowed the older boy to force himself inside him.

As Louis, silent now but for heaving breaths that sounded close to sobs, thrust into him over and over, Harry thought sadly that he could never come back, and even though letting this happen would make their parting even worse, he couldn't bring himself to regret being with Louis one last time. 

His own cock rutted into the sheet beneath him, guiltily hard, knowing that Louis wouldn't expect him to be getting off on this. But then, he could hardly think any worse of him, could he?

At least under the circumstances he could hardly be expected to adhere to courtesy, and before Louis had finished he let himself spill into the sheets, hoping distantly that it fucking well stained the mattress.

Feeling Harry come beneath him spurred Louis angrily on to drive into him even harder, finally collapsing over him in a shuddering, sobbing climax.

He rolled away, and buried his face in the pillow, shoulders shaking in silent tears. Harry quietly sat up and started dressing.

Louis looked up at him, bewildered and tearstained. "I'm sorry," he said in a broken voice. 

Harry reached out and stroked his shoulder. "I know. It's okay."

"Don't go." Louis sat up, expression wretched. "I never meant to - did I hurt you? I'm - so sorry - "

Harry pulled his t-shirt over his head and looked down at him, unable to resist a dig. "Nah. That was a joyride compared to what some of my clients like to do." He felt a stab of bittersweet victory as Louis flinched. "Bye Louis." 

"Harry! I can - I can still see you, right?" Louis pleaded desperately. "I'm sorry, I was drunk, I won't ever behave like this again."

Harry nodded. "Sure. Call me, yeah?" He slipped quietly out of the room, closing the door quietly on Louis' tears.

\--

When he dragged himself out of the bedroom half an hour later to take a shower, Louis found that Harry had left the roll of cash sitting on the coffee table. He stared at it, dumbly. Had Harry forgotten it, or left it deliberately? He decided Harry must have been too distracted to pick it up, and comforted himself with the thought that at least he could see him once more, if only to hand it over.

\--

For two days, Louis tried to call Harry, leaving various messages of grovelling apology on his phone and subdued requests to meet. By the third day, it dawned on him with a horrible clarity that Harry probably recognised his number and deliberately wasn't picking up.

Risking a bollocking at work, he sneaked off in a quiet period and punched in Harry's number from the phone on reception. It rang, twice, then - 

"Harry Styles."

Louis' breath caught in his throat and for a second he couldn't speak.

"Hello? Hello? Anyone there?"

"Harry," he managed hoarsely, just before Harry hung up.

There was a pause on the other end. "Hello Louis." He sounded guarded, resigned, and also faintly embarrassed that he'd been caught out.

"Hey." Despite the miserable thoughts Louis had been torturing himself with over the last few days, just the sound of Harry's voice was enough to make him smile. He turned away from the blatantly eavesdropping receptionist and cleared his throat. "You, um. Left your money behind."

Another pause. "Consider it a freebie. Look, Louis, I'm busy right now, I've gotta go, sorry."

"I want to see you," Louis blurted quickly, before he could ring off. "I need to see you," he added, more quietly.

"Lou - that's not a good idea. I'm sorry, but - I can't see you any more," Harry said apologetically. "Please - don't call me again okay? Don't make it harder than it has to be."

"Harry!"

"I'm sorry. I really am." Harry hung up before Louis could say anything more. 

Staring in shock at the receiver, Louis slowly dropped it back into the cradle. The receptionist gazed at him, openly curious, and he forced a weak smile. 

"One of those days, honey?" she asked sympathetically.

Louis swallowed, hard. "One of those lifetimes." 

\--

Ten miles away outside a cafe, Harry was still standing staring at the phone in his hand, fighting the urge to hurl it under the next bus. He was grateful for the autumn sunshine that meant he was wearing shades, so none of the passers-by could see the tears in his eyes.

\--

The front door to Niall's house was standing wide open, and Harry wandered in past people bustling to and fro with outlandish decorations and crates of alcohol. Narrowly avoiding tripping over a woman - he was fairly sure it was a woman - trailing fairy lights behind her, he bumped into Zayn, emerging into the hallway with a bottle of beer in his hand.

"Heyy, it's Mr Lover-Lover!" Zayn grinned, grinding his hips, and Harry laughed as his mood lifted for the first time all day. He took in Zayn's Armani suit, the diamond studs in his ear and quiff combed halfway to the ceiling and shook his head.

"Suddenly I feel under-dressed."

"You've got clothes on. Surely for you that's over-dressed," Zayn sniggered and Harry gave him a mock glare.

"Shush your mouth. As far as everybody else is concerned, I'm here as Niall's date, okay?"

Zayn mimed zipping his lips shut and Harry laughed. "Seriously though, thank you for doing this. I know it's not exactly your usual kind of gig."

"No worries. Anything for a mate, right?" Zayn waved off his thanks dismissively. "Anyway, it's great, this house is amazing!"

"You think so?" Harry blinked. He'd always found it slightly unsettling.

"Yeah! He's got a ballroom for fuck's sake! Who even has one of those?"

Harry grinned. "God knows what the catering'll be like though. I should warn you his idea of fine dining is going to Nando's."

Zayn sniggered. "Should be okay, I heard him saying he'd ordered in from some restaurant."

"Thank God for that. Where is he, anyway? I gather I'm early."

Zayn gestured vaguely at the staircase. "Think the guests are due any minute. He let me in then disappeared to get changed. Mind you that was about half an hour ago. I think I scared him." Zayn looked unrepentant and Harry slapped him cheekily on the face.

"Behave, you. He's shy."

Zayn looked innocent. "Model of decorum, me."

"Yeah, and the Pope's Jewish. I'll leave you to set up. See you later, yeah?" He wandered off, admiring the exotic flower arrangements that had appeared and skirting people carrying in trays of appetising smelling food.

He was helping himself to a drink, when a sixth sense made him look up. Across the room, the last tray of canapés was being set down carefully on the table, and as its bearer glanced up he saw Harry at the same time Harry saw him.

For a second, Harry and Louis stared at each other, frozen, too surprised to do anything else.

And then a voice at Harry's elbow forced him to look round, and he blinked.

Standing there looking more devastatingly attractive than he'd ever seen him, in an immaculate dinner suit and a shy grin, was Niall.

"Wow," said Harry, taking him in, and meant it. 

Niall flushed pink and laughed. "Do I scrub up okay?"

"I never doubted it for a second," Harry grinned, and because he knew Niall hired him for affection as much as sex, and because it was his birthday, and because however fucked up Harry's life, he was not going to let his personal problems interfere with his professionalism, he leaned in and gave him a big hug, and returned the delighted kiss Niall planted on his cheek.

"I'm so glad you're here Harry," Niall beamed. He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially "I get so nervous in big crowds. But with you on my arm I'm the luckiest guy in the room."

Harry took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly, making Niall go an even deeper shade of pink. "Let's greet your guests, yeah?" he suggested. Only as Niall started leading him out of the room did he let himself look back. But of Louis, there was no sign.

\--

Much later, the party in full swing, Harry was sitting on his own, staring miserably into his drink when Zayn slid into the seat opposite and kicked him cheerfully on the shin.

"Vas happenin' Harry?"

"Not a lot." He sighed and Zayn looked concerned. 

"What's up babe?"

Harry hesitated. "I think I've fucked up, Zayn. Like, really fucked up," he admitted.

Zayn looked startled. "How? I mean - you're okay, right?" he asked cautiously.

"Oh! Yeah, no, it's nothing like that." Harry smiled at him sheepishly and Zayn put a hand over his. 

"So tell Uncle Zayney what the matter is?"

"I - I can't," he protested weakly. Zayn might be close enough to count as a friend but he was still a client as well.

Zayn gave him a look of sympathy. "You think I don't know what it's like keeping a secret to yourself? It starts eating you up inside." He squeezed Harry's hand. "Spill."

"I think - I think I've fallen in love, Zayn," Harry confessed bleakly.

Zayn's eyebrows went up. "Yow."

"Yeah. Exactly."

"Male or female?"

Harry stared into his drink, swilling the ice cubes round and round. "Male."

"Knew it." Harry looked up and Zayn winked at him. "Someone that likes cock as much as you do was never going to settle down with a girl."

"Don't be so - " Harry laughed, indignant, then conceded the point.

"So who's the lucky fella?"

"No-one you'd know." 

"Well, there go my dreams of it being me," Zayn said sadly and Harry looked up, startled, only to find Zayn grinning at him.

"Idiot."

"So? What's the problem? Doesn't he feel the same way? He's not straight is he?"

Harry shook his head. "With my job? How can I even consider it?"

"Is he not worth it?" Zayn asked, quietly persistent.

"He deserves better than me."

"Does he think so?" When Harry didn't answer, Zayn narrowed his eyes. "Harry - he does know how you feel, right?"

Harry shook his head slightly, and gave him miserable eyes. "Actually I think he probably hates me right now."

"Do you know that for certain?"

Harry shook his head again and Zayn sat back in his seat looking smug. "You want some advice from the Master, babes?"

"This would be the Master who's currently more closeted than some of his shirts, would it?" he couldn't resist firing back, and Zayn laughed, ruefully.

"Yeah, that one." Harry nodded, and he fixed him with a meaningful stare. "Tell him how you feel. Even if it doesn't work out, if you don't you'll always wish you had."

Harry nodded, resignedly, and Zayn patted his hand. "While I'm here, can I ask a favour?"

"Of course." Harry looked up, glad to push his own worries out of his head for a second.

"I know you're technically Niall's date this evening, but - would you mind if I asked him to dance?"

\--

It was ten past two in the morning, and Harry was feeling tired and washed out. In the room beyond, the music was lower, and the last few couples were still swaying lingeringly together - including, he'd been amused to note, Niall and Zayn. 

Harry laughed quietly. Presumably this meant his services wouldn't be required any more tonight. He could probably go home. He spun the empty glass in his fingers, trying to ignore the voice in the back of his head pointing out that he was only hanging around on the off-chance that Louis would come back with the van to collect the empty catering trays.

Losing concentration, the glass slipped from his fingers and rolled towards the edge of the table. His hand darted after it, and closed around the stem just as another hand did the same, their fingers accidentally entwining. He looked up slowly, his stomach suddenly full of butterflies.

Louis drew the glass out of his grip and set it into the plastic crate under his arm. "You should be more careful sir," he said levelly. "There's a breakage charge on this lot."

Harry got to his feet, not knowing what to say, or where to begin. 

"Good party was it sir?" Louis asked brightly, moving to clear empty, sticky glasses from the other tables, and affecting not to recognise him. "Must be nice, moving in high society like this, eh? Do they pay in cash, this lot sir, or do you send an invoice in with the rest of us tradesmen?"

"Louis." Harry's voice shook and he took a deep breath. "Don't."

"Oh, don't mind me sir, I don't mean to judge." Louis set the crate down and leaned on it, the brittle edge to his voice deepening into something more ragged. "I finally figured it out, you see."

"Figured what out?" Harry ached to go to him, to put his arms round him and take away the pain that he seemed to have caused, just through trying to do the right thing. But Louis' body language screamed keep away, and he stayed back.

"How to make a bit of money. Go up in the world," Louis was saying. He turned round, meeting Harry's gaze with hard, bright eyes. "Figured I'd give it a go myself."

"Give what - " Harry shook his head, lost, and Louis continued.

"What you do. Can't be that much to it, you make it look easy enough. You'd be surprised, you know, how many propositions I get where I work. Well. Maybe next time I'll take someone up on it, eh?"

"No!" Harry's yell startled them both, and Louis glared at him.

"Scared I'll take some of your business?"

"Louis - " Harry reached out, then let his hand drop, regretfully. "It's not all champagne and orgasms you know. I've been through a lot of shit. Stuff I would never, ever want to think of happening to you."

"You really expect me to think you care what happens to me?" Louis retorted bitterly, but Harry just shook his head.

"How can you believe that I don't?" he asked quietly.

Louis was just staring at him with a look of longing and misery. "After what I did - " he breathed, shaking his head in denial that Harry could ever forgive him.

"It doesn't _matter_ ," Harry said desperately. "Don't you see that?"

"Harry." Louis formed the name silently with his lips, eyes gleaming with unshed tears. He let his gaze come rest on Harry's mouth, and knew then that even if it meant Harry would never consent to see him again, he had to kiss him, just once. 

Louis was barely even conscious of closing the distance between them, only knew that suddenly his mouth was pressed against Harry's, and there were warm, soft lips beneath his, and somehow against all the odds Harry wasn't pushing him away.

Instead, with a small desperate noise in his throat, Harry was clinging to him, kissing him back frantically. Hardly able to believe what was happening, Louis pulled him closer, deepening the kiss and tasting Harry's mouth, tongue hot and urgent against his own. Harry's arms were around him, he realised, and while the world might not have ended, it seemed to have stopped turning, for long, endless minutes.

Eventually, they paused for breath, hardly daring to look up at each other in case their fragile perfection should shatter once again. Slowly, a glance became a gaze, and a touch became a caress, and then they were kissing again, slower this time, laughing with the insanity of it all, happy only that they seemed, finally, to have found each other on equal terms.

Neither of them had any idea how long they'd stood there like that, when from close at hand someone cleared their throat pointedly. Jumping slightly, they looked round to find Niall and Zayn watching them from a few feet away, smirking.

Before Louis could say anything, Harry slipped his hand into his, and turned to face them.

"This is Louis," Harry said, and then added, simply, "and I love him."

Louis turned startled eyes on him, and finally let himself read the truth of it in Harry's face, his expression softening into one of dazed happiness.

"Ello Louis," Zayn grinned, half draped over Niall's shoulder. "Nice to meet you." 

Louis looked up, embarrassed, and nodded awkwardly to Niall. "Um. Sorry, if it seems like I've - "

"Oh, don't worry yourself," Niall flapped at him, cheerfully off his face. "I was worrying how to tell Harry I didn't need him tonight - " he bit off the sentence and looked appalled as Zayn buried his face in Niall's shoulder and howled with laughter. "I mean, um, oh, shit - "

"It's okay," smiled Louis, and leaned into Harry as he slipped an arm round his waist. "I know, about, um. Yeah."

"You two seem to have been getting on well," Harry observed, hoping to distract some attention away from them for a second.

"Oh, we have! Do you know, up to tonight I was thinking of selling up, but Zayn's convinced me otherwise." Niall said happily.

"Selling?" echoed Harry, surprised. He'd always assumed Niall at least liked the gloomy old place.

"Yeah. In fact I would have started proceedings already, only when I called my property agent earlier they said he'd gone away unexpectedly on a second honeymoon." Niall shrugged. "Still, now I won't have to bother him." He smiled up at Zayn who waggled their entwined hands and kissed him on the nose, making him giggle.

"Look, there's still a couple of rooms free upstairs, if you guys want to stay?" Niall offered as the thought belatedly occurred to him.

"Really? Is that okay?" Harry nodded grateful acceptance, feeling the horrid paranoia that if he didn't get Louis into a bed in the next ten minutes he might wake up and find it had all been a dream.

Louis looked regretfully at the stacked crockery that now wouldn't be going anywhere. "I am so going to be out of a job tomorrow morning."

"Guess that makes two of us," Harry said and Louis looked shocked.

"Harry - I would never ask you to give it up, you know I wouldn't."

Harry pulled him close, and kissed him. "I think - if I've got you then I don't want anyone else," he whispered.

"Well I guess that's next Wednesday night suddenly free," said Zayn in a loud voice. "Niall, you busy?"

Harry, forehead resting against Louis', tried unsuccessfully not to laugh. Louis smiled at him.

"Harry Styles. Will you come to bed with me?" he murmured. Harry smiled back, and nodded.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Hand in hand, they headed towards the stairs.

"Get him to do the thing with his mouth," Zayn called after them and Harry shot him a glare, making him hold his hands up in giggling surrender. Harry looked anxiously at Louis, but he just smiled and squeezed Harry's hand.

"I don't mind," he said softly, and Harry, dazed and half-disbelieving, lead him upstairs.

Walking down the hall, they came to a door standing open on an empty guestroom and closed themselves snugly inside. Louis stared at the bed, impressed. 

"Bloody hell. It's a four poster. Niall's not a lord or something is he?"

Harry giggled. "No, just from a disgustingly rich family. But he's nice all the same," he smiled, leaning his chin on Louis' shoulder and sliding his arms round his waist. Louis leaned back and twisted round to kiss him. 

"Shall we?"

A few minutes later they were scrambling naked under the covers, each immediately seeking out the other and wrapping hot limbs around them. 

For a long time they just kissed, lazily, exploringly. After all the times they'd fucked with heated, inventive energy, it was this that seemed the most novel, the most sensual thing to be doing.

Louis mapped Harry's body with his lips, tasting and teasing, taking a slow pleasure in memorising the contours of his skin.

Harry writhed beneath him, turned on to a massive extent, and yet neither felt any real rush to progress things to the next stage. Tonight was for discovery, or perhaps rediscovery. For the first time Louis could be sure which of his caresses were those that genuinely drew the loudest gasp, or filthiest moan of approval. 

Part of him had always been afraid that Harry had been to some degree acting, or flattering him, and it was the sweetest feeling in the world to know that he really could give him such intense pleasure. Louis revelled in his new freedom to give Harry his full attention, and Harry too could finally let himself accept it.

Working his way down Harry's body, Louis wrapped his lips around the head of his cock and sucked it into his mouth, moaning around him enthusiastically. Harry jerked his hips instinctively up, thrusting into Louis' mouth with fast, shallow gasps. Only a few moments had gone by though before he sat up, and Louis reluctantly let the cock draw back out of his mouth. He looked up at Harry, puzzled, but Harry was crawling headfirst down the bed, settling himself by Louis' legs. 

Abruptly, Louis got the idea. " _Fuuuck,_ " he whispered, and Harry gave him an evil grin, before taking Louis' swollen shaft into his own mouth. Louis immediately resumed his earlier activity, and after a bit of shuffling to find a comfortable and less awkward position, they got into the rhythm, sucking and thrusting in a mutual knot of arousal.

Eyes half-closed, Louis felt the change in Harry's body as he neared climax, muscles twitching under his hands, and then Harry's cock was pulsing in his mouth, hot come spurting over his tongue and running over his lips. He tried to swallow it down as best he could, spluttering and laughing, and eternally grateful for the way that even mid-orgasm, Harry never let up on the way he was sucking him. 

Sleeping with a professional certainly had its benefits.

Feeling himself close, Louis twisted round to be able to see Harry properly, and with a smirk of revenge, drew himself free of Harry's reddened lips and finished himself off with a couple of fast, rough pumps of his fist, leaving Harry's face streaked with his dripping come.

Wiping his eyes, Harry snorted. "Git. You did that on purpose."

Louis lay back smugly, with his arms behind his head. "Yep." 

Harry crawled up and settled against his side with a yawn. Louis nudged him with an elbow. "Oi. No sleeping. I haven't finished with you yet." Harry yawned again and nuzzled him.

"Sleepy," he mumbled.

Louis smiled and kissed him. "Lightweight."

"Not." Harry snaked an arm around his waist, eyes closed, and pressed warm lips to his collarbone. Louis pulled him in close and drew lazy circles on Harry's arm with his fingers, dragging the covers over them with his other hand. For a long, comfortable while they drowsed, not quite asleep and not fully awake, just savouring the other's nearness, and the fact that this time, Harry wasn't going to have to get up and leave.

Some time later, an odd noise impinged on Louis' consciousness, and he lifted his head, blinking awake. It was faint but distinct, and he slowly realised it was a combination of a headboard being slammed up against a wall, and someone having very loud sex. _Very_ loud sex, because he didn't think it was coming from an adjoining room.

Roused by his movement, Harry stirred and looked up. He smirked. "Sounds like Zayn got lucky."

"How do you know it's - " Louis started, then bit off the words hastily. "Never mind," he mumbled.

Harry looked awkward. "Sorry," he said in a low voice, eyes downcast. Louis winced.

"No, I'm sorry. I - God, Harry, I don't want to make you feel you've got to watch what you say."

Harry raised a smile. "Well the chances of us sleeping under the roof of two of my other cli- _ex_ -clients again is fairly slim, so we should be okay." He still had a rather apprehensive expression, so Louis wrapped his arms around him and kissed him until  
it went away.

"Mmmn." Harry stretched lazily, and dipped his head to take one of Louis' nipples into his mouth, teasing with his tongue until it was stiff and sensitive. He moved his attention to the other one, Louis running his fingernails lightly over Harry's back and making him wriggle against him. He could feel Harry was hard again against his hip, and his own cock rapidly stiffened in response.

Harry's fingers curled around his shaft, stroking maddeningly gently beneath the covers. Louis captured his mouth again in a lingering kiss and shuffled pointedly until Harry was lying on top of him, his cock digging into Louis' stomach.

"Fuck me," Louis whispered. Harry's eyes widened slightly; before Louis had only ever wanted to fuck _him_.

"Are you sure?" he couldn't help whispering, tracing fingertips down Louis' neck into the hollow of his throat and following the touch with his lips.

"Yes, God, yes," Louis groaned, bucking underneath him until their cocks were sliding against each other. "I want you," he whispered between breathless kisses, "I want you inside me Harry, I want to feel you, belong to you."

"Christ Louis," Harry bit his lip to fight off the feeling he might come on the spot. He shifted to the side and let his hand come to rest between Louis' legs, fingers caressing soft skin. 

Louis parted his legs further, encouragingly, and groaned as the first finger pushed inside him. 

"Good?" murmured Harry, working his finger in deeper, pressing and stroking, seeking the spot that would have Louis trembling under his hands. In reply, Louis groaned again and they both laughed, Louis' ending in a gasp as Harry added a second finger.

Louis arched his back, pushing down onto Harry's fingers greedily. "So good," he breathed, "yes, fuck, Harry - " He gave up trying to talk in favour of being able to breathe as Harry's fingers fucked him open and begging.

Harry looked over his shoulder, searching for his jacket. "I need to find a condom," he muttered apologetically, and Louis' hand tightened round his wrist.

"Don't?" he said quietly. Harry hesitated. 

"Are you sure?" 

Louis nodded. "If - I mean, if - "

Harry nodded back hastily. "I'm clean, I promise." He smiled as Louis flushed with embarrassment and couldn't resist teasing him further. "And it's a bit late to worry about that now, given that you swallowed about a pint of my spunk earlier," he grinned.

"That's what I like about you," Louis snorted. "Always so romantic."

"I can romantic your arse off!" Harry objected, and Louis gave his cock an impatient squeeze, making him yelp.

"That's rather what I was waiting for," Louis reminded him, grinning. 

Harry looked down into eyes that were gazing back at him, full of something like worship. He brushed sweat-darkened hair free of Louis' forehead, and kissed him. "I love you," he murmured.

Louis looked like he might die of sheer adoration, and Harry ducked his head, returning them both to the more pressing matter at hand by pinching his inner thigh meaningfully. Louis went from dazed to glaring in the blink of an eye, but shuffled obligingly enough into the position Harry was guiding him to. 

Wrapped in each other's arms, Harry watched Louis' face closely as he entered him, alert to any slight sign of discomfort or disapproval, but Louis threw his head back and let out a sighing breath of pleasure. Every sense tingling with overload, they moved together, Harry thrusting into his body with a slow, firm rhythm that made Louis weak at the knees.

He could feel every inch of Harry inside him, filling him and fucking him, a hot, insistent pressure that made his vision blur and heart race. He almost wished they'd done this before, but decided that, to have this as their first act of lovemaking as actual lovers, it was worth the wait. 

All too soon, Louis felt his orgasm approaching, and with one hand clutching at the sheet and the other buried in Harry's hair he came hard, splattering both their chests with his release. Harry grinned down at him, stealing his breath with a hard kiss and increasing the force and speed of his thrusts as he sought his own orgasm, fucking Louis into the mattress and making the bed creak alarmingly. 

A minute later, Louis felt a hot, wet rush as Harry's throbbing cock spilled inside him, still pushing slowly in and out, slick with come, making Louis shiver bodily and seize Harry's face between his hands to kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him.

Afterwards they lay in a tight embrace, recovering their breath and their strength, talking quietly of everything and nothing. As he was drifting into sleep, Harry squeezed Louis' hand and smiled faintly, their faces too close to focus.

"This will work, won't it?" he asked in a small voice, hope and anxiety mingling in voice thick with tiredness.

Louis closed the gap and kissed him softly on the lips.

"We'll make it work," he promised. "We'll make it work." Pulling back, he gave a quiet laugh. Contented smile on his lips, Harry was already fast asleep.

\--


End file.
